


All That I'm Living For

by Bitrektual



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-05
Updated: 2014-04-24
Packaged: 2017-12-22 12:17:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/913126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bitrektual/pseuds/Bitrektual
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A heartbroken Elladan, mourning the loss of his mother, poses Glorfindel with a question that spurs a story the golden haired warrior has not shared in a long time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. See Who I Am

**Author's Note:**

> Just one of my headcanons for Glorfindel's beginnings.

"Glorfindel, where is your naneth?" Elladan asked as he stared quietly out the window, sitting on the railing of the balcony in Glorfindel's room. Glorfindel looked up in surprise from where he was sitting in a chair on the opposite side of the room.

It had been only a few short months since the fair Celebrían had sailed for the Undying Lands, her spirit unable to be appeased by Elrond's skilled hand. Elladan had been spending a great amount of time in Glorfindel's company as he and his brother recovered, having favoured the golden hair elf's company more than usual in recent days. Closing the book he had been reading in the silence as he allowed Elladan his thoughts, Glorfindel tilted his head curiously.

"Why do you ask, Elladan?" he asked, already suspecting the answer but hoping to get Elladan speaking. He had always been the quieter of the two, but lately he had gone all but mute.

"Did she die? Or did she leave you of her own accord?" the more serious of the twins asked, and Glorfindel swallowed, bowing his head sorrowfully. So that was it. Elladan was feeling abandoned by his mother. He supposed it was only natural. A mother leaves her family, her children, unable to find happiness, and the family might wonder where they went wrong when they were not at fault at all.

"Neither," Glorfindel replied, choosing to pursue the topic that the young elf had started in the hopes that he might continue talking. Elladan glanced briefly over at Glorfindel, the faintest look of envy at the word that would bring any to assume Glorfindel's childhood had been happy and peaceful with his parents.

"An uneventful childhood then," Elladan spoke, but Glorfindel shook his head.

"No," he replied once more, and Elladan shifted around and let his legs hang over the side of the railing as he watched his friend and mentor carefully.

"How do you mean no?" Elladan asked, and Glorfindel continued, seeming to change the subject abruptly as he posed a question in answer.

"Elladan, do you know of the story of the Awakening of the Elves?" he asked, and Elladan frowned in confusion for a moment before shaking his head. Glorfindel smiled and continued, ruffling his hair as he used to do with the boy had been an elfling. "It is time for a history lesson then," he replied and chuckled as Elladan wrinkled his nose slightly.

"In the beginning when the world was still young and Middle Earth had not yet seen the light of the Sun, the Elves awoke on the shores of Middle Earth. All was dark and the only light in the sky was the stars above. There the first Elves lived for a time in contentment, learning of themselves and the world," he explained, and was pleased to see Elladan listening intently, despite his initial reaction to a 'history lesson'.

"There was no Sun or Moon?" he asked, and Glorfindel shook his head. Elladan chewed his lip as he contemplated Glorfindel's words and tried to piece together how this fit into their previous conversation. "Why is the story not in the history books?" the young lord asked, and Glorfindel smiled sorrowfully.

"Because those that remember such a time, those that could pass such stories on have long since faded from memory," he replied after a moment.

"Then how do you know it? And why have you brought it up? I asked about your mother, not for a history lesson," Elladan snarled, suddenly angry. "If you do not wish to answer my question, then just say so. Don't change the subject and waste my time with stories," he said, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall as he looked away from Glorfindel.

Glorfindel watched Elladan calmly, his outward appearance seeming unaffected by the sudden outburst. Cautiously he took a deep breath and entered a topic that he had not brought up to anyone in quite some time. Many thousands of years, in fact, if not more.

"I haven't got a naneth," he stated simply, watching Elladan's face for a reaction. Confusion, the expression Glorfindel had expected, flashed across the young elf's face as Elladan gave his full attention to the blonde warrior, and Glorfindel smiled softly. How to explain such a story as the one he had set himself up for telling?

"I know the story because I was there," he added, and Elladan's face took on a note of surprise and shock, as if he was not entirely sure how to respond to this statement. "You asked about mother, yes, but I don't have one," he continued with a tone that indicated he wasn't entirely sure about this topic, but found himself compelled to pursue nonetheless.

"But that's impossible," Elladan interjected, shaking his head and holding up a hand to pause Glorfindel's speech. "If what you say is true, then you would be ancient. Older than anyone in this world," Elladan said, and Glorfindel chuckled lightly.

"I don't look it, I know. I suppose time has been... good to me in that regard," he said, and Elladan slid down off the railing for fear he would fall off it. Staring at Glorfindel in shock, as if seeing him in an entirely new light, Elladan approached hesitently.

"Then you were one of the first of the Ñoldor?" he asked, and again Glorfindel shook his head, an almost amused smile on his lips.

"I was once one among the Vanyar, golden haired and full of a love for poetry and culture. Did you never wonder why my hair was gold and your father's people were dark?" he asked, and Elladan shrugged.

"Grandmother has golden hair, and mother's was even lighter. Ada used to call her his Silver Queen," he mused, and Glorfindel nodded.

"There are exceptions, such as the Lady Galadriel, but I am not one," Glorfindel explained. "I was Vanyar and Vanyar I remained until the taking of the Silmarils. I have told you of the Doom of the Ñoldor, have I not?" he asked, and Elladan nodded silently. Glorfindel copied Elladan's nod and closed his eyes briefly, the fearful words of dread sounding fresh in his mind as the day they were spoken.

_"Tears unnumbered ye shall shed; and the Valar will fence Valinor against you, and shut you out, so that not even the echo of your lamentation shall pass over the mountains. On the House of Fëanor the wrath of the Valar lieth from the West unto the uttermost East, and upon all that will follow them it shall be laid also. Their Oath shall drive them, and yet betray them, and ever snatch away the very treasures that they have sworn to pursue. To evil end shall all things turn that they begin well; and by treason of kin unto kin, and the fear of treason, shall this come to pass. The Dispossessed shall they be for ever."_

Glorfindel opened his eyes again as he recalled the old days and continued the story that he had begun, suddenly aware that Elladan had moved closer, sitting eagerly at his feet as he had as a child when Glorfindel would tell him stories before bed. As he looked down at the life within the young elf's eyes, Glorfindel felt glad that he could distract the young lord from his pain, if only for a moment.

"I was among them when the Doom was placed, and I followed them back to Middle Earth from whence I had come. I left behind the Vanyar and adopted the identity of the Ñoldor and with it their fate," he said solemnly, looking down into curious eyes as Elladan sat at his feet and took in the information he was being given.


	2. The First Day Of My Life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It started as one thing, but then turned into another.

Glorfindel's fair face was expressionless as he looked out across the Grinding Ice. Their long journey had finally come to an end, and the Ñoldor gathered in the warmth of the sun and the softness of the grass and earth, weeping for joy at the ending of their long trial. But Glorfindel was in no state of mind to celebrate or weep. He only stood in silent contemplation.

"Glorfindel?" Turgon's gentle voice reached the Vanyar's ears, and he turned his head ever so slightly as he felt his friend's hand brush his arm. His eyes remained on the Helcaraxë, though, as guilt kept him from looking upon the Elflord. Though he and his daughter had survived the journey, Turgon's wife had been lost, and Glorfindel couldn't help but feel as though he had failed him.

"Come eat with the rest of us," Turgon encouraged, coming around and taking Glorfindel's face in his hands, turning him so that the Vanyar had to look at him. "For the length of our journey since my dearest was lost from us, you have kept me optimistic. Now let me do the same for you," Turgon pleaded, and Glorfindel's expression softened as he smiled and placed his hands on Turgon's shoulders.

"You don't need to worry for me, my friend. I thank you for your words of comfort, but I think I prefer to be left with my thoughts," Glorfindel reassured him, and with a smile that he struggled to feel anymore, he watched as Turgon left to rejoin his people. Once he was out of sight, Glorfindel turned and walked along the shoreline. He needed to clear his thoughts.

As he walked, he thought of past events. Feanor had betrayed his kin, not only by bringing about the Kinslaying, but also by stealing the boats and leaving the rest of the outcasts to face the harsh wasteland of the Helcaraxë. Glorfindel had all rights to remain in Valinor, but his loyalty to Turgon would not allow it, and a part of him desired to see Middle Earth once more.

It was, after all, the land that he had awoken in. And now he could see it in the light of the Sun...

Stepping through the soft grass, finally able to shed his shoes and move barefoot again. In the long run, they had only been on the Ice for a couple of decades, but so dangerous had the journey been that they were cut nearly in half in population. It was times like this that Glorfindel was glad that he had no close blood ties save for those he had awoken with on the shore.

The shore entered into a grassy plains, and in the distance vast forests could be seen. No doubt, the elves would make there home in there until they could build themselves a permanent establishment.

Down the way, Glorfindel spied a figure in the distance. Frowning, he increased his speed with curiosity. He had thought all the elves were gathered together, but now here was one who seemed to be going off on his own. He was tall, but clearly young and Glorfindel questioned if he was even beyond his first five hundred years of life.

"Excuse me," he called out, his eternally youthful voice stretching easily across the fields. The youth turned, and Glorfindel approached. "Why are you out here, instead of with the others?" he asked, and was surprised to be greeted with a sour look.

"What are you doing with the Cursed instead of in Valinor where you belong?" the boy responded hotly, and Glorfindel was brought to an abrupt halt as he took in the young elf's words and tilted his head curiously. The dark hair elf turned and began to walk away again.

"Because I've found that family does not only extend to blood," Glorfindel said, not attempting to stop him, but managing to anyway. The stranger turned back towards Glorfindel and studied him curiously. For a moment, the two stared at each other in silence. Glorfindel could see the grief and bitterness etched in the Ñoldor's young face and was certain that he had lost loved ones during the journey across the Ice. "My family are those whom I choose to give my life to, and there is always room for more."

A disguised offer. And indication that this young elf did not have to be alone.

"It was just my mother and my oldest brother," the elf said, settling down in the grass by the ocean. Glorfindel approached slowly and sat down next to him when the other gave no protest. "My father, sister, and middle brother chose to repent and turn back," he explained, and Glorfindel's heart went out to him and his parted family. "They both perished on the Ice, just weeks before our journey came to its end."

"I'm sorry," Glorfindel started--

"Why?" the boy snarled, suddenly angry as he stood up. "Why are you sorry? You didn't kill them!" he went on, and Glorfindel quickly stood up, startled by the fierceness of his outburst. He didn't speak immediately, knowing that words were not what could help heal this right now. "We were trailing behind because Mother had grown weary. The ice broke beneath us and we tried to run, but they..." the boy trailed off, his voice breaking. Glorfindel knew he hadn't told anyone about this yet, and so he cautiously approached and rested his hand on the elf's shoulder. Overcome with emotion, the boy turned and held to Glorfindel's shirt, crying into his chest as the Vanyar wrapped his arms around him tenderly.

"I know I can't say anything to make you feel better, but if you ever need a friend, I don't mind if you were to come to me," Glorfindel offered wholeheartedly, tightening his embrace as the young elf let out his grief against Glorfindel's tunic. For several minutes they stood there in silence, and Glorfindel didn't say anything more. Tears were important. So many, it seemed, believed that tears were a sign of weakness. But Glorfindel knew they were wrong. From the moment he had seen the first elven child born, he knew it was wrong. Because from the day you were born, crying was a sign that you were alive.

"Why are you so kind to me?" the boy asked, pulling back suddenly as he sniffled. "You don't even know my name," he continued, and Glorfindel smiled. The motion was mimicked by the Ñoldor youth, and Glorfindel felt his heart lighten at the ability to bring a smile to his sorrowful face.

"Why should I require your name to offer my care?" Glorfindel asked, and the question seemed to give the boy pause for thought. He sat back, and Glorfindel decided it was safe enough to ask. "So... What is your name?" he asked, giving a sheepish smile as the boy looked up at him with a raised eyebrow.

"If you must know," the youth replied, wiping his tearstained cheeks as he brushed his dark hair out of his face. "My name is Erestor."


	3. Untitled Chapter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Glorfindel's time with Erestor is brief, but a new friendship quickly takes place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm kind of having a writer's block on this, so this is sort of a little thing to try and get me going again.

"Erestor?!" Elladan exclaimed in surprise, his eyes widening as his attention was pulled in by Glorfindel's tale. Glorfindel's fingers were combing lightly through the young elflord's hair, making small decorative braids as he considered where to pick up the story. It wouldn't do to give all the details, or they'd be there for a century. So he thought of the more noteworthy.

"It was fifty years into First Age when Ulmo—" he paused, raising a brow. "You remember who Ulmo is, correct?" he asked, and Elladan nodded. It had been Erestor's job to teach the boys history when they were elflings, but Glorfindel would occasionally substitute. "Well, Ulmo told Turgon and Finrod to build Gondolin, and we set to work. I took Erestor under my wing — he was younger than you are now, and had lost everyone. He was remarkably good at masking his grief, though. Don't tell him I said any of this... He'll do something horrible to me," Glorfindel smiled, and Elladan laughed.

"So, Erestor is an ancient, too?" Elladan asked curiously, but Glorfindel shook his head.

"He was born in Aman," Glorfindel explained, and rose to his feet to walk out on the balcony with Elladan, to continue his story. "This was his first time in Middle Earth, and though I had been here before, it was an entirely new experience," he said, staring off into the distance. Elladan didn't speak, watching his mentor intently. Who knew when Glorfindel would share such knowledge again.

"When Gondolin was built, I was made Chief of the House of the Golden Flower. Erestor went his own way, then. I would not see him again until I joined with Lord Elrond," he concluded his brief time with Erestor in his young years. He took a moment to study Elladan, amused at the colour in the elf's face. Nobody save for Elrond knew that they'd met before.

"But that was when you met Ecthelion!" Elladan exclaimed suddenly, recognition of this period in Glorfindel's life coming to his mind, and excitement grew. The twins' favourite tale had always been that of Glorfindel's great deeds. Glorfindel laughed gently, placing a hand on Elladan's shoulder to calm him.

"Yes, that was when I became close with Ecthelion. We were Lords at Gondolin together, and often went out riding together," he explained, his gaze growing far away as he recounted history again.


End file.
